Chapter 10

LLOYD

“You fiery, forward, little vixen,” I yelled, catching her around the waist and throwing her over my shoulder while grinding my teeth in an effort not to touch her more than necessary.

I carried her back to the cottage, dumped her on the chair, and tried not to look at her cleavage, but it was impossible.

I grabbed a T-shirt and threw it at her. “Put it on,” I snarled.

She put it on over that excuse of a dress that messed with my thought process, not to mention that her ass cheeks were bare and fitted into my hand perfectly.

She knew just how to get under my skin, igniting a fire and making me lose control. The kiss was supposed to be a punishment, but—

~“So sweet, though… And where’s the harm?”~ Vetus mused.

~“Are you crazy?”~

~“Mark her and she will answer all our questions.”~

~“No, I will never mark her!”~

~“Maybe that’s why she’s our mate. To help us—”~

I considered it briefly, but witches were untrustworthy, and I couldn’t take the chance. The fear of succumbing to eternal sleep and never waking cast a shadow over my heart.

“Sit, and you will only leave when I give you permission,” I commanded, letting out all my dominance.

She had the audacity to pull a face. “Your lordship,” she mouthed off.

“Which pack are you from?”

She shrugged. “Monolith. And where do you come from with all your power? The Moon?”

I stiffened. The Monolith Nightshades? The very place where we caught King Finn after he ignored my father’s challenge and ran.

Unfamiliar with the area, we moved through the trees and found the king leaning casually against a boulder, a sly smile on his face.

I suspected treachery but not in the form of a binding circle, and the minute we stepped into it, we lost all senses and could not shift or move a muscle as though we were caught in a vacuum.

I yanked Misty out of the chair and shook her forcefully. “Fucking lying, little bitch. Did you think I wouldn’t know Monolith is a coven? I know witches can mask their scent, but I can smell your taint. What I don’t understand is why you would pretend to be a wolf. Did you think it was safe to hide among your enemies?”

Her eyes were the size of saucers, glistening with tears, but I felt no compassion, my hand finding its way to her slender neck.

Finally, I had a witch from the very coven that cursed me. By the Goddess, I was not going to spend one more second in that tomb.

“Enemies? There’s something wrong with you, you know that? I am not a witch,” she whispered hoarsely.

I forced her back into the chair, grabbed the grimoire, and shoved it under her nose.

“Recognize this?” I asked, loosening my grip. “Open it. The grimoire will prove what you are.”

She hesitated as she took hold of the book, her fingers trembling slightly as she traced the pentagram on the cover.

The grimoire would grant her access to recorded spells and curses, but it was a risk I had to take now that King Axel had made such a premature move.

I knew only too well that the invitation boded ill, and once I was back in the palace, there would be no chance to break the curse.

She turned the page, and I waited for the writing to appear. “It’s blank,” she said in astonishment, turning page after page.

I growled in annoyance. Why was this not working?

~“Maybe she isn’t a witch?”~ Vetus chimed in.

~“Then why does her blood have that spicy tang?”~

“Okay, look. I’ve answered all your questions; now it’s time to answer mine. Who the fuck are you?” she asked, crossing her arms and squinting up at me.

“Lloyd Tenebris,” I answered curtly.

She threw her hands into the air and huffed. “That tells me nothing. Do you have some kind of vendetta against me?”

I glowered silently at her. She hadn’t figured out why I needed a witch, and with any luck, she wouldn’t. I couldn’t have her holding the curse over my head. I already had to contend with the Sayelle-Moreau dynasty.

“Where do you come from? It didn’t look like you knew what a television was, and you used the word brassiere. No one speaks like that…”

Fuck.

Did she really not have an inkling she was a witch?

“The window at Alpha Zack’s house shattered before you fell on the buffet table. You burned down his house too. And I heard you flooded the change rooms with just a touch. How do you explain that? Untrained witches who haven’t harnessed their power have such tendencies.”

I knew this because I served King Broderick in 1815. The monarchy had a dedicated squad trained to catch witches that escaped their net. I’d listened to many of their conversations and gleaned a wealth of information.

She gaped at me. “What? And how did you… Never mind.” She stood up and narrowed her eyes. “You can go to hell. I’m done with this punishment and your evasive answers.”

She stepped closer, kicked me in the shin, then hopped on one foot, grabbing her toes in pain before showing me the middle finger and stomping out the door defiantly.

Goddess, she was perfect.

~“We need a new plan. Otherwise, we’ll be trapped and asleep in the chamber by the end of the week,”~ Vetus stated.

~“I know.”~

Frustration roiled in me.

Misty had power but no idea she was a witch. Instead of a coven, there was a pack at Monolith, which meant there had to be more witches around, mating with humans or wolves to increase their numbers.

~“It could be centuries before the curse wakes us again, and Misty could be dead by then,” ~Vetus said.

Failure was not an option. Vetus was right; we’d be back in the chamber by the weekend.

~“Misty is the key. I know it.”~

Masking my scent, I snuck to her house and around the back. She was lying on her stomach but had taken my T-shirt off, put on sleepwear, and was paging through…wait a minute…was that the grimoire?

How the hell had she taken it without me noticing? The pages were still blank, but then her phone lit up.

“Chelsea, I have so much to tell you. You won’t believe this, hang on.”

She picked up the phone and pressed something.

“What is that? The pages are blank,” Chelsea said.

“It’s a goddamn ~grimoire~. You were right, and witches did exist.”

“Of course I’m right, but how do you know what it is? It could be something you buy in a joke shop.”

Joke shop? What the hell was that?

She typed something on the phone before lifting and angling the camera. “I don’t think it is. Check this out.” She closed the book.

“So ~he~ told you it’s a grimoire, and you believe him? He hasn’t claimed you, and it doesn’t look like he will. And honestly, printing a book with a pentagram on the cover and blank pages is easy.”

I’d given her an order not to speak to anyone but hadn’t considered texting on the phone, and she’d found the loophole. I didn’t know whether to be impressed or furious. The question was—who else knew?

“I know, but this book is ancient, and when I run my finger over the pentagram, it’s indented like it’s missing something. Did you manage to find any info?”

Missing something. I had seen the indentation but hadn’t drawn that conclusion.

“Goddess, yes. Wait till you hear,” Chelsea said excitedly. “Three hundred years ago, Monolith was a coven called the Monolith Nightshades. But after some sort of uprising in 1773, King Finn and his successor, King Broderick, slaughtered witches by the dozen.”

“Why, though?” Misty asked.

“Grandpa thinks that werewolves and witches were mortal enemies, and that is why they were hunted to extinction. Werewolves don’t trust witches. Also, packs were wiped out for the smallest transgression.”

“What type of transgressions?”

“It doesn’t list them, but it does say that the monarchy took steps to ensure the bloodline’s safety. I don’t know what they meant by that.”

I knew exactly what that meant. They cursed me to ensure they could reign without getting their hands dirty.

I had so much blood on my hands—killing wolves who wanted the Sayelle-Moreau bloodline gone, just as I did. The thought alone depressed me.

“So, they’ve ruled for centuries?” Misty asked.

“Pretty much, but I guess they have royal blood.”

“Goddess, Chels, do you think because I was born at Monolith, my blood was tainted somehow?”

“Then we would all smell like witches, right? Even your mom…”

“Does it say anywhere what witches smell like?”

Chelsea raised her eyebrows. “No, it’s a history book, but maybe you should tell Lloyd what you discovered.”

“I’m not telling him that. He already thinks that my witch powers are unharnessed or something, and that’s why things happen.”

“Happen?”

“Now you’re being obtuse. You know what I mean…”

“Oh, that, yeah. Just tell him your wolf’s name is Calamity. I mean, that is self-explanatory.”

~“Calamity?”~ Vetus muttered.

“I don’t think anything I tell him will change his mind,” Misty said sadly.

“Fuck, Misty. Chin up. I can’t wait to see you,” Chelsea said. “You better wait for me if you get there before I do. Can’t wait to meet the king…”

“I couldn’t give a toss for the king, but I can’t wait to see you. Show me your dress, Chels,” Misty encouraged.

“How is this for gorgeous,” Chelsea said.

“Stunning, but I’m surprised you chose red.”

Feeling guilty for listening to her conversation, I shifted and ran into the forest.

~“Now what?”~ Vetus asked.

~“She’s a witch but has no clue, which means breaking the curse before Friday is impossible.”~